Half and Half
by Kiyoshi Kitana
Summary: Fluffy, fluffy Edwardcentric Elricest. At the time of writing this, I'd hadn't seen the end of the series, so this is my own version of it. Reviews are loved.


**Title:** Half and Half  
**Author:** Kitana  
**Warnings:** Mrrr… PG, fluffiness? Edward-centric, really, but also Elricest. I haven't seen the end of the series yet (guh, Adult Swim, what are you waiting for!) and so for me, this is kinda like speculation. Um, also, the present-past tense thing is totally freaking _screwed_ here. It was midnight or some kind of later hour that I shouldn't be up while writing this, and I definitely don't feel like going back and trying to correct anything. Damnit, this had pushed my entire scholarship essay writing to the back of the bus. This was supposed to be an entry to the livejournal community fma500, wtf happened? … Please try not to think too much about it and take the Elricest at face value for the sweetness love that it is? I mean, I know it may seemed kinda rushed, but er … I have a real strange image of Al reading sex tutorials while in his armor. ...I better sleep and stop typing this already, it's already too long. 1,094 words.**  
(Second AN here: This is a five month old fanfic. XD; I've seen the whole series, now.)**  
**Writing Music:** Rockelle – In a Dream

Edward thought it would have been different, really. Out of the three of them, Al always showed the most interest in Winry, and Winry paid plenty of attention to Al. When she wasn't marveling at some random machinery, or praising her own maintenance on Ed's automail, that is.

Yet, when he thinks about it now, he never could have guessed the words that Alphonse would say to him upon restoration of his body. He never would have _fathomed_ that Al, his Al, the Al that had stuck with him through thick and thin, torrential rain and unbearably hot summer days, would even want to do what he did. In all, Ed thought that he might have ended up … deepening his affairs with the Colonel.

It was such a landmark event for the two of them; Ed doubted that he would ever be able to forget it. The play of images would be one that he would take to the grave. It would be a memory, a video, which even in heaven or hell — if there were such places — he would remember, whether suffering in eternal damnation or hitting the wrong chord in the choir of angels.

Al had stood amidst the fading glow of the array — damnably taller than Ed, so he noticed — and smiled. Not a word yet, but a brilliant smile that could have easily eclipsed the sun that so many people worshiped.

It looked easy for Alphonse, those steps. As Al walked slowly towards his brother, every gesture seemed so perfectly natural; the light sway of hips, the small little muscles that worked to propel Al forward… it was as if Al had never even lost his body.

Perhaps, though, it was because Al strived to remember all of those little motions. Studied peoples – Edward's – motions, never letting himself forget, even though it sometimes blurred into near nothingness.

Still, though, the easiness of Al's body didn't shock him as much as what Al _did_ with his body. Edward had stood dumbfounded for once, shocked into stillness and awe. He almost couldn't believe it. For a moment there was no almost, but as soon as Al touched him, embraced him, whispered a 'thank you, brother' in still the same voice he'd always had — Ed knew it was real. He knew he had succeeded where others had failed.

Al had forgotten touch. The first few days were cursed as much as blessed — the tickle of hair here, a stubbed toe there, the pleasure of running water – no more fear of rusting.

But those resulting days had nothing on the first night. Not when Al snuggled against him in a bed slightly too small, talked to him about the hard trip and how long it took them to get this far (those memories would soon be nothing but a blur to Al, Ed had murmured a little later), and thanked his determination yet again. Edward only listened to Al, _all_ of Al — his heartbeat that thumped rhythmically in his chest, his soft, tender voice that reverberated through that very same chest…

Tender as that was, it had nothing on that first day. Ed had spent all his waking hours poking Al, tickling him with light touches, receiving playful bops on the head when he tried peeking into Al's pants to see if he did it right (why do you even want to know, Al had said a few times). It was obvious — Ed wasn't the type to be sappy about his happiness. He was direct, straightforward to a fault and humour was easily an outlet to express his feelings.

And he was happy, truly happy — he had his brother, all flesh and softness and smiles and gentleness and kindness and caring and and and… _real._ All real, like he was supposed to be.

What Al said… what Al did…

It wasn't until the twelfth or thirteenth day of Alphonse's restoration, that Al said anything about pursuit of a relationship. Ed knew Al was considering people — it took a while, but Ed usually caught on if Al was infatuated with someone. That metal had made it easier to hide, but not anymore. Never again, either.

"Brother, if it's okay… I want to be with you."

Ed had looked up from his toast and milk at that — and no, he still wasn't drinking milk, the nasty stuff — and quirked an eyebrow, mouth too full to give a proper inquiry. After a few swallows and a napkin swipe here or there, Ed replied.

"What do you mean? Of course you're going to be with me."

Al shook his head at that and smiled his 'jeez-you're-so-dumb-sometimes, brother' smile at Ed. Though before it had only been a vocal smile, a metaphorical smile.

"Yeah, of course that, Ed. What I mean is like… the same way I would be if I chose Winry, that's what I mean."

Edward had only blinked and stuffed more toast in his mouth. A few seconds had passed and he still looked as if the idea hadn't sunk in, chewing thoughtfully. In truth, it hadn't. At least, not for another hour or so. Later, Edward definitely had to laugh at that — guess it was true, when they said that men are dense when it comes to romantic hints. Oh well.

Al didn't press it, or even really mention it for a while after that. Ed did notice, however, Al paid him more attention. It wasn't until a few nights later that Al had said anything else. Upon reflection, there weren't as many words as there were actions. Loud, un-Al-like actions. None of the subtlety anymore.

There were a lot of whispers — _brother, let me show you what I mean…_

A lot of touching — _we can't get much closer than this, Alphonse…_

A lot of this and that and blurring — _should we stop? no, we shouldn't? we're too far gone anyway, aren't we?_

That was the only part that seemed hazy, unclear. Ed can't even recall the whole night. All he can remember is sensation and sound — Al was dangerous, wild, damn near uncontrollable then.

Those nights, last night, perhaps tomorrow night — those nights tamed Ed, threw his whole perception of the world askew. Only Al can do something like that.

That's another thought that can make Ed smile.

Alphonse Elric, his younger brother, the only person in the world that he can love like a brother, a friend, a lover and get away with it all.

Right here, right now … heaven be damned and screw hell with a broomstick.

This _is_ paradise.

_Owari_


End file.
